


Phantom Glare

by Audley



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Gen, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-14 19:48:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28926084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Audley/pseuds/Audley
Summary: Majitani walks into a bar and takes an empty seat beside the wrong stranger.What would happen if Majitani had spider-faked in front of one of the real Spiders, in front of Chrollo in particular?
Comments: 5
Kudos: 20





	Phantom Glare

Majitani loved attention, but what he loved even more was intimidating people. Most quivered at his caved-in nose, the bright wires connecting into his collar and shoulder, a nice touch, always gave the impression of a bomb that could detonate any moment. He was a world-class extortionist, and extortion was all about pushing the right buttons to get the right reaction from targets. 

He was having a great day and in the mood for something petty, Majitani narrowed in on some pretty-boy unaccompanied at the bar. So scrawny, Majitani bet he couldn’t even snap a pencil without breaking a nail. But what was up with the scarf tied around his head? What was his deal? His threads were tailored, melt-in-your-skin stuff, none of the thin polyester others fronted in. A business tycoon? No, they were a tad far from the financial district. Maybe some tech start-up mogul? Nah. Most would peel off their suit jackets, or other layers, slouching over the bar, staring contemplatively at their whisky glasses. But sitting there, jacket still buttoned, book under one arm, he looked far too relaxed and pristine. And far too pretty for Maji’s liking—he could fix that.

Majitani stole the open seat beside him, and Majitani loved how he spilled out of the seat, his bulging arms taking so much space Pretty-boy had to move his book away. Majitani jovially introduced himself, faking tipsiness because he found that often effective at getting others to loosen up.

Pretty-boy said he worked in _special_ _trading_.

Ah, Majitani thought. Stock Market. Many of his type would try and talk someone’s ear off about their profession, puffing their feathers by name-dropping this deal or that conglomerate, but he didn’t. But, as Majitani knew, the really secure did not. So Pretty-boy must be really up there.

Maji downed his drink, ordered another, and downed that one. He spun the conversation from trade to his death-count (he's well-rehearsed at this point he barely needs a segue).

"Lookie at this." He lowered his collar, mindful to show the muscle definition and the 19 little hearts on his breast. "I've killed nineteen—get that—NINETEEN people so far."

Pretty-boy counted the little pink hearts, bright against Majitani’s blue skin. He didn't react immediately, probably in utter shock, but then he raised his eyebrows. "Nineteen, huh? The number is important to you."

"But the odd number bugs me!" With a wink of his bruised eye, Majitani said, "One of these days some chump will cross the wrong person—" He jabs his thumb into his breast— "And become lucky number twenty!"

Majitani burst into guffaws, loud enough for others in the bar to peer behind. He waited for Pretty-boy to stammer, to shrink in his chair, good thing for his headband to soak up the beads of cold sweat. 

Majitani thanked his lucky stars for the mirror-reflective bar fridge door angled perfectly to face them. He feigned feeling hot, whined something about the temperature. He turned, allowing the shirt to cascade down his (flexed) back, letting the white light above them shine over the twelve-legged spider tattoo. He died to see the horror as it would surely unravel on Pretty-boy's face.

Pretty-boy saw the spider, and the door was so reflective Majitani could enjoy seeing his eyes widen in recognition of the infamous insignia. Majitani worried for half a second that maybe Pretty-boy wasn't privy to big crime, but now he could hear the freaked thoughts in his head. _The Phantom Troupe?! He's one of them?! He must be the leader he looks so strong! I've never been more scared in my life!_ Majitani could hardly contain his glee. _He must be terrified now!_ Then Pretty-boy, reflected in the door, his lips twitched with contained amusement.

A smirk?!

"Hoooo," Pretty-boy hummed. The display hadn't frightened him but instead had _charmed_ him. "I have a question."

"Huh?"

"Have you ever crossed the wrong person?"

What the hell kind of question was that?! He was trying to psych him out. Majitani was three times his size, could squash him like a beetle even without the steel in his hand! "Nineteen haven't been able to stop me!" Time to roar. Majitani threw his head back and laughed, using all his lung capacity so he'd echo in the ceiling.

“One of these days some chump will cross the wrong person,” Pretty-boy repeated. 

He unbuttoned his jacket—where did his book go—and began to unbutton his cuff and carefully fold up his white sleeve. 

“One of these days might be today.” Down at the level of his seat cushion, he turned his bare forearm to unveil a tattoo, a number zero in the crest of a twelve-legged spider.

Fast circulation in Majitani’s wires—what always happened when the adrenaline kicked in. Stammering, but from his own lips. The chair crashed behind when he backed away, hands waving in surrender.

Majitani’s vision swirled into color and shadow soup and he couldn’t blink away—what was with this drink? He wobbled before crashing in a heap to the floor.

* * *

Turned out the bartender had been tipped off and drugged his drink as part of a police operation. The pigs had apprehended him on several counts of fraud and blackmail. Still, the black Spider on the guy’s arm remained a phantom glare behind his eyelids. Waking up ankle-shackled in prison ("They gonna lock ya up for at _leas'_ a hundred years!") hadn’t even been the worst thing that had happened to him that day.


End file.
